


A Passion for Revenge

by AvrielleRogue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvrielleRogue/pseuds/AvrielleRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris hesitates admitting to Anders how he truly got hurt, but the mage wants to hear it from the elf's own lips. (Gift fic for daddysbear on Tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Passion for Revenge

“I don’t see how it’s any of your concern,” Fenris barked.

Anders tipped back on his stool, arms spread wide in a relaxed shrug. He didn’t often have the upper hand, so he was at least going to have some fun with the elf. He had a hunch, but he wanted to hear Fenris say it out loud.

A brown tabby named Bear, Anders’ most recent stray, weaved lazily around the legs of the healing table where Fenris sat. He rubbed up against Fenris’ leg which earned him a light kick. Bear hissed with disapproval.

“If I heal you as if it were from a broadsword and it’s actually a rapier wound, you’ll be thrumming with a lyrium hangover for days. Don’t want that, do we?”

The scowl curling Fenris’ lip brought a rare smile to Anders’ own. His friend just made it too easy to tease him. It really wasn’t fair.

“As I said, it was a sword. Smaller than a broadsword, much thicker than a rapier.”

_That’s not the only thing much thicker than a rapier_ , thought Anders. The thrill of their verbal dance sent blood rushing southward, and Anders thanked the Maker silently for loose robes. He rose and slowly made his way to the table, taking the elf’s wounded thigh in his strong hands.

“And this was… a slaver? A Carta thief?”

It was nearly impossible to keep his voice steady as he ran his fingers over the reedy muscles in Fenris’ leg, but he didn’t want to seem overeager. Not yet.

Fenris released a breath he’d been holding -- from pain? Or something else? With a huff of indignation, he rolled his eyes and fixed them to a distant corner of the clinic, averting the mage’s glare.

“It was a Templar, all right?”

A surge of warmth jolted through Anders’ body and he barely stifled a shudder as he worked to keep control of himself. Two misty clouds of blue gathered around his hands. Lightly surging healing magic into Fenris’ leg, he allotted a bit of extra warmth to set the elf at ease. The bare flesh knitted together beneath his hands. An extra cooling salve rushed from his fingertips so the added pressure wouldn’t hurt his sensitive lyrium scars.

Fenris couldn’t stifle a soft gasp as the last sting of pain left him. His breathing remained ragged. Anders slid his hands to the table on either side of Fenris but remained hunched before him, inches from his face. The elf’s sweet breath misted across Anders’ lips, smelling of ozone and sweat. The intoxicating musk set Anders’ staff twitching beneath his smalls.

“You fought a Templar?” Anders asked, fighting to keep his voice low and steady.

“I watched him shackle an innocent mage in the Gallows,” Fenris said. He didn’t break the electrifying gaze between them. “The girl had done nothing wrong, and when I freed her, the Templar struck. He… won’t be a problem for any more mages.”

Anders could bear no more. He leaned inward, pressing his lips hungrily against the elf’s, and to his surprise, Fenris didn’t draw back in horror. Anders pushed on, lifting his hands to rake them through Fenris’ silver hair. Fingers splayed out, Anders suddenly bunched them to a fist, gently pulling the elf’s head backwards, coaxing out an escaped gasp. Anders nipped roughly on his neck, sliding his tongue along the muscular tendon before suckling on his collarbone.

His curled fist released the clump of hair, and he combed his fingers downward, drawing back up to a standing position. Passion flushed his cheeks, but he truly didn’t want to press on without the elf’s permission. Fenris’ dark eyes searched his own in an unreadable scowl Anders hadn’t seen before.

Suddenly, as fast as if he had phased them both across the room, Fenris lept off the table and pressed Anders against the far clinic wall, hands firmly on the mage’s biceps, pinning his arms to their sides. He smashed into Anders’ mouth with an erotic thirst that could have melted Anders to the floor. Anders bucked his hips forward slightly in response. Brushing up against Fenris’ thin leather britches, he felt a thickening length down the right side. Quite a long way down the right side.

Anders slipped his thigh roughly between them, parting Fenris’ legs to rub against his inner thigh with more fervor and tipped his head back against the wall in another silent prayer to the Maker. Tonight he would show the elf just how grateful he was for his service.


End file.
